Monday, August 27, 2007

In which I am recognized (and outed)

This weekend Rich and I attended a weekend getaway party hosted by the company I work for. At first I was not sure whether I would be able to attend due to tiredness from the week before, travel issues and other assorted lame excuses, but a coworker offered us a ride with her family and suddenly the way was clear for us to attend.

And boy am I glad we did.

The party was at a hotel on an island called Hankø, where apparently some of the royal family like to hang out. It's your typical gorgeous Norwegain island, surrounded by saphhire blue water, emerald green trees, iron grey rugged rocks, hot and cold running moose and (luckily for us) the bright blue sky with only a few pearly white clouds. We knew Fall was coming, of course, and you could sort of feel it in the air, that indefinable crispness and sense of urgency that comes with the imminent arrival of Fall, but it was still warm enough in the sun that when we got there I really wished to hell I had brought some shorts. (As I write this it is raining and SLEETING outside, so yeah, uh, bye bye summer.)

We arrived at Hankø from the short ferry ride to a lunch already prepared and waiting for us. And free booze! Hmm...definitely a sign of a good weekend ahead.

On to the hotel where there were a variety of activities on tap, including horse rides for the kids, rock climbing, yoga, bbq course, wine tasting course and other stuff. I was sort of wanting Group Nap Time, but that was not on the list, and our room was not yet ready, so instead we headed to the pool and jacuzzi for a bit of splashy fun. I loves me a hot tub.

After swimming and then finally getting into our room, we met up for dinner at 7pm. I think the best description would be to call it a Meat Fiesta. There were, like, 7 kinds of grilled meat with all the trimmings plus wine, wine and more wine, plus champagne, and an open bar. Norwegians may not have big parties often, but when they do they go all out. (Which is why they don't have them often, it is REALLY expensive!) They are extremely generous hosts. And the company I work for was a very good host indeed. Thanks Company I Work For!

Anyhow, during all this party fun, what with the drinking and the talking and the eating of the meats, I was standing outside the hotel when a woman walked up behind to me and tapped me on the shoulder. (My first reaction whenever a stranger approaches me is to think "Aw geez, what's wrong? Is there toilet paper on my shoe? Booger issues? Is my skirt tucked up in my underwear?" ) I warily turned to see a very pretty blonde woman standing there, who asked me, in an American accent "Do you have a blog?"

her...."Are you the Texpatriate?"

me (voice getting a bit squeaky here)...."Yeah!?"

Her..."OHMIGOD I LOVE YOU! You are hilarious!"

me......stupid look on face...huh?

Then, it dawned on me, Dude, I've been recognized!

She reads my blog and she RECOGNIZED ME! I'm like, a rock star or something! OK, so maybe not a ROCK star, per se, but maybe like someone who used to be a rock star, or certainly a one hit wonder...or ....perhaps, more accurately, someone who was once on TV. (Ok, let's be real, this is ME we are talking about here, so actually it would be someone who was on TV for ten minutes, but that time was spent on America's Funniest Home Video, tumbling ass over applecorn, and all anyone ever saw were my cowboy boots and my ass, and so she didn't actually recognize ME, aw hell no, but my boots, now my BOOTS are pretty damn noticeable (my ass was, thankfully, covered) and so that's how she remembered me. Because I was wearing them that night. (My boots, I mean,.... the ass has a tendency to follow wherever I go, no matter how hard I try to shake it off, ha ha double entendre and HAVE I HAD ENOUGH COFFEE YET?) ) But yeah, she recognized me! And she called a friend to tell her that she met me! A friend in New York! Who ALSO reads my blog! And they were both EXCITED to know I was there!

So, this means that: this woman (she's from Houston, by the way, and I totally dug talking to someone who sounded like HOME) in Norway and her friend in New York read my blog. This means I have two readers. Two readers who are on opposite continents. This, my friends, and the fact that she recognized me, makes me An International Blog Rock Star. Yessirree bob.

So, hey, big shout out to Tressa and Leanna! Howdy y'all!

Of course, what with all the talking about blogs and stuff, I think I got outed to my co-workers that I am, indeed, a Blog BadAss, and so now they are going to read this. So, Hi Coworkers. Welcome to my not so secret blog. Don't tell anyone, ok? Or, do whatever you want. I'm cool with whatever. It's YOUR time wasted here, not mine.

(Note to coworkers: You are probably wondering how the hell someone like ME got into your nice office right about now, aren't you? Well, yeah, me too. Luck, I guess. And charm, definitely charm. And my elegant way with words.) (By the way, has anyone noticed I haven't used the word "fuck" once in this whole blog post? I mean, wow?)

(Additional note to coworkers (and this applies to the Hubby's coworkers as well): I do not ever say where we work or what we do in any specific terms. I also don't really use names of coworkers or anything like that. (I did once write an homage to the kickass coffee machine on our floor. I LURVE that coffee machine. And cake. I love the frequent cake breaks. Like that chocolate cake we had today? Did that rock or what?) But I can promise you that you are safe from me dissing on you, the job, the company or anything that might be regarded as a Stupid Thing To Say.) (Well, ok, I say Stupid Things all the time, but I promise to not say them about anything work related.)(Anything importantly work related.)

The rest of the evening, after my outing, was about more drinking. A waiter came up to me at one point and told me, that because I was from Texas, the band was going to do country western music and a line dance.... Just For Me. Because, as I am from Texas, that is my favorite music, and they were going to play it for me, to make me, the Celebrity Blogger, happy. (By the way, I have exactly three cd's of country western music: Lyle Lovett, KD Lang and Kid Rock's eponymous song "Cowboy". That's how country and western I am.) But seriously, how nice was that, that they tried to make me feel at home?

I didn't have the heart to tell the waiter that I wouldn't be able to line dance if you tied me up like a marionette and moved my feet and arms for me. (That night I couldn't even WALK in a straight line, much less dance in one!) A coworker reminded me that the chicken dance is a line dance, but then he had to remind me how to do it. And I still messed it up. I flapped when I shoulda wiggled and I wiggled when I was supposed to flap.

I wonder if they take away your Texan-ness for sucking at line dancing?

Anyhow, we had a great night, the evening finished with more alcohol in the 'drawring room' which had the additional conversational benefit of a tiny, furry little bat that slept clinging to the side of the stone fireplace.

Got back home by 2pm the next day, where I fully intended to do laundry and clean up our very messy house, but instead managed...a nap.

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